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This is not my little boy

My little boy is 18 months old. He’s learning all kinds of fun things lately — words and signs. I’m a little disappointed though. He’s mastered the word “football” (buhbal!) before he’s managed hockey. I guess that makes sense, hockey is harder to say than football. Hopefully one of these days, he learns the best sport in the world too.

Which leads me to wonder, how do I make sure that my little boy doesn’t suffer from the West Virginian hockey affliction of either a) liking the Penguins best or b) being incapable of following the game on tv. He currently insists on saying football every time he sees a hockey player.

So, I’m going to have to take a pretty severe tactic. I’m going to have to freeze it into him. He’s going to have to sit out in the cold holding a hockey stick, until he forgets about “buh-ball” and thinks first and best about hockey. He’ll be allowed to eat hockey pucks and drink melted snow (Don’t get the yellow stuff!) until the training is complete. It’s harsh, but it must be done.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

I’ve been reading Lewis lately — finally making time for some of his works that I should’ve made time for a long time ago. Thus far in my life, I’ve conquered his fictional works and Mere Christianity, and snippets of others. I’m now in the midst of his autobiography Surprised by Joy. Its made me realize that some people just have a way with words. Whether Lewis is writing fiction, faith, or semi-auto-biography, his sentences are just brilliant. I find myself chuckling about the various things he records — schoolmasters and dances, his father’s mood swings (his father had a common Scottish/Irish tendency toward extremes… extreme happiness sometimes, extreme anger others). He also writes beautifully about sad things and insightfully about terrible things. In general, you get a pretty good idea of who the man is.

It leaves me to wonder how much of writing is raw talent and how much is refinement. We can work on the refinement part, but the talent part simply is what it is. Reading about Lewis’s imagination, it’s clear that there was a prodigious talent there.

I’d like to commend to you all the series of messages from the 2008 Desiring God national conference. I’m about half way through, and so far there has not been a sermon or a panel that hasn’t made me think or moved me to a deeper understanding of God’s grace. I particularly enjoyed Dan Taylor’s message about The Life-Shaping Power of Story. Here is his thesis statement for the message:

The single best way of conceiving of faith and the life of faith is by seeing it as a story in which you are a character.

I love this statement. I think it rings true — and I think it helps me to better understand my role as one who aspires to write.  God communicates in story — we learn about Him as He deals with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, as He deals with people in the wilderness, as He deals with the nation of Israel, and as He deals with the disciples. Along the way, Mr. Taylor tells some engaging stories. It’s well worth the hour or so listen. My name is Andrew Mackay, and I endorse this message.

(I try to keep these “Nerd talks about nerd-dom” posts to a minimum. Sorry, every once in a while, they’re unavoidable.

I spent an hour the other day listening to Steve Ballmer from Microsoft talk to Josh Topolsky from Engadget. It was a fascinating conversation. Ballmer was all over the place. Windows 7 had just released, and he was giddy. It was a lot of fun, actually. But, I found myself wondering, who sits around and works to the sweet sounds of nerds talking? What drives a guy to do such things?

I guess there are several motivators:

1. Technology Curiousity. (There was no way to make that flow together at all). I’m just generally curious about technology. I like to know what’s going on, I like to play with new things and I like to hear new ideas.

2. Hilarity. Steve Ballmer is … hmm, not Bill Gates or Steve Jobs, that’s for sure. He’s kind of bombastic and prone to say dumb things. He proved himself to be pretty deft and smooth, deflecting some of Josh’s questions with aplomb.

3. Hatred of microsoft. I’ve always been a little antagonistic toward Microsoft. Hate is a strong word. Dislike isn’t quite strong enough. But, lately, Apple has been doing some fairly draconian things themselves, and it’s made me wonder if maybe I’ve been too harsh on Microsoft. Listening to Ballmer, no… no, I haven’t.

So there you go, a little bit of why I am such a nerd. I can embrace it, though!

I read with interest this post by Athol Dickson about the tension that exists amongst Christians about Christian themes in books. He said,

I mentioned the strange fact that there’s no faster way to start an argument among people who write Christian fiction than to bring up the subject of theme.

“Right away, we divide into two camps,” I said, making two fists and putting one on the dinner table to my right, and the other on the table to my left. Lifting one fist I said, “Over here are authors who insist Christian novels have to kowtow to the most prudish people in the pews, and speak about the gospel so plainly it crosses the line into propaganda.” Lifting my other fist, I said, “But the authors over here think being authentic and relevant means we must show profanity and violence and sex realistically, and they’re willing to avoid all hint of Christianity rather than risk being seen as preachy.”

He’s right. read more »

I was really moved by my friend Matt Cook’s post last week titled Three Labels. I’m going to reproduce parts of it here and hope he doesn’t sue me.

Think about what you are going to do today. Get at least six things. I’m pretty sure you can break them down and organize them into three labels:
- Things you need to do. This is your basic, I-do-this-so-I-can-eat stuff. Your bread and butter. Your 9-5. This is what puts food on the plate and money in your landlord’s pocket.
- Things you ought to do. These are things that are good, in and of themselves. Hanging out with family. Talking with neighbors. Volunteering. Telling people about Jesus. Working out. Good stuff.
- Things you want to do. That which is fun. Hobbies, games, travels, etc.
On how many tasks can you put more than one label?

What if we pulled the three lists together? What if you could put all three labels on one task? Or on most of your tasks?
Happy.
That’s the dream, I think. To support yourself and your family while doing what is right and fun.

I know I’ve mentioned it before, but I’m increasingly finding myself in situations where, as Matt says, I’m putting all three labels on some of my tasks. I’m blessed. It’s a good little exercise. I recommend it.

It’s a frequent conversation here in West Virginia. “I’d watch hockey if I could follow the puck… now, back when they had that red dot over it, I loved it…” This is most frequently said by people who love me and know that I probably hated the red dot. But, occasionally, I hear it from random people.

For those of you who are blissfully unaware, when Fox had part of the NHL rights deal, they decided to embed a microchip in the puck that would then allow them to digitally put a red dot over the puck to make it more obvious for television watchers (pronounced “Americans”). It was an attempt to make watching hockey easier, I guess.  Thankfully, no real hockey fan thought it was a good idea, so when Fox dropped out of the hockey broadcasting business, the system dropped out with them.

However, it does raise an interesting issue. If you haven’t been watching hockey for very long, apparently it can be tough to track the puck. I won’t pretend like I know what that feels like — I don’t remember a time in my life when I couldn’t track the puck for the most part. Of course, hockey’s been on in my house (and the winter game of choice) since I was born. But, in an effort to help, I’ll tell you how I watch the game.

1. Follow the little black disc. Yeah, self explanatory. If you can obviously see the puck, you probably should just stick to that.

2. Flow of game. Check what color the goalie is wearing. Look in the direction he’s looking for a guy who is not wearing the same color as him. You’ve found the puck.

3. Beware the dump and chase. Frequently, teams will “dump” the puck into the opposing team’s zone, and then chase it in hopes of setting up an offensive opportunity. Dump and chase takes place around the boards, the hope being that a good body check will get the defense off the puck and provide that opportunity. If there are guys skating hard and you can’t see the puck, check around the boards.

Hopefully those tips help. For the record, my Toronto Maple Leafs are still winless. They play tonight… maybe they can get out of this streak.

(The picture to the left has absolutely nothing to do with the post. It was in the morguefile results for art, and I had to chuckle.)

Why do we bother with art? What makes art admirable? What is it we seek to accomplish through the acclamation and enjoyment of art?

Good art is praise of the God of the universe. He created everything. By seeking to create (as much as it is possible for us to create) something that reflects His truth, we honor Him. This is easier for me to see when it pertains to a story than when it pertains to a painting, but that is only because my comprehension of paintings is limited by my pea-sized intellect.

Nevertheless, when I read a true story, I feel it… It resonates. I think, it is good. This is the feeling I get when I read great tales by fellow believers like Lewis and by people I’m diametrically opposed to, like Ayn Rand. In Lewis I feel it in the redemptive themes. In Rand, I feel it as the characters experience an intense longing for something more than what they have. These things are true. They are worth experiencing and commenting on, because they reflect the truth of the world God created. And He is good.

I’m having some excellent learning experiences in a writing critique group. I am lucky in that the two guys I’m doing this with are both a) brutally honest and b) not idiots. In fact if you wanted good qualifications for a critique group, I’d recommend that criteria.

I’m starting to get a little concerned. So far, I’ve consistently received comments about the lack of realism in my character’s mix of interior monologue and ongoing dialog. You know, “Would he really have or take the time to make that comment to himself?” I’m worried that it might mean I spend too much time cracking wise in my head and not enough time actually listening to what’s being said to me. If true, not only does it make me self obsessed, it makes me a really terrible listener.

I’m learning how to fix my writing. I guess what I’m trying to figure out is, is it possible to learn about your own character flaws from having your writing critiqued? It appears that the answer, at least for me, is possibly. So, if you’re talking with me and I appear to be listening harder, I’m not trying to weird you out. I’m just trying to quiet the bad jokes in my head.

Lately, I’ve pretty consistently found myself reading genre fiction. Apparently this is the natural result when you go to the library, find the sci-fi section, and pick the book with the most sci-fi looking spine as your selection.

You can actually learn a fair deal about genre that way. I’m not sure how much crossover there is (can anyone describe an amish romance spine for me? I’m not sure I’d know one to see one), but I think at least in sci-fi and mystery, there’s something to the method. There are certain features visually and stylistically that indicate that you’re reading the genre you’re reading. I doubt if it’s even intentional on the author’s part, but it’s almost like they do certain things with their opening chapters that make you go, “Oh yeah, sci-fi.”

I think I first started to notice some of this when I was endeavouring to read through a list of “must read” sci-fi that Orson Scott Card had put forward. I’m cross that I can’t find that list now — it was an interesting six months. Then I gave up I think. I made it through Asimov, Herbert, and zig-zagged through a few others. I circled around to Robert Heinlein (I think) and gave up. But, it was informative. There’s a reason those books are classics… I learned a lot.

So, if you want to write in a certain genre, go out and read it. A lot. It’ll be good for you. You’ll learn what you should be doing and aren’t. You’ll also — if you read widely enough — learn what you shouldn’t be doing.